


Tell Me Once More

by Neyiea



Series: Links of a Chain [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Once More

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been an age since the last part was posted, but reading over the lovely comments you guys left for me made me want to give you a more concrete-ending, as opposed to what I left you with. Hope you enjoy. :)

Waking up is what he imagines drowning must feel like. Struggling to reach the surface while being pulled down by water, darkness, and your own damning weight. Your chest getting tight and your movements becoming desperate as you fight a loosing battle, lethargy settling down upon you until finally someone grips you by the shoulders and _pulls_ \--

His eyelids are so heavy that he's surprised he can manage to open them at all, and it takes several long moments before the dark splotches in front of him sharpen and form a familiar face.

He opens his mouth but finds his throat too dry to speak. Kíli doesn't seem to mind in any case, smiling so wide that Fíli could probably count each and every one of his teeth.

"Took you long enough to wake up again, Fee." He says, the slightest waver in his voice, and Fíli's eyebrows furrow.

How long had he been sleeping?

He shuts his eyes, struggling to recall what had happened, and when he opens them again Kíli is pressing a cup of water to his lips. Fíli tries to move to grasp it, but one of his hands has a curious pins and needles sensation spreading from his fingertips upwards, and the other he cannot move at all. He glances down to take stock of his body, blinking curiously at the splint that's immobilizing his arm.

"Óin said you'd be dehydrated when you finally woke, you'd better drink up," Kíli softly reminds him, and Fíli's attention focuses back on the cup.

He drinks slowly at first, then his sense of thirst overcomes his reservations and he guzzles the rest of it down as if he'd been trapped in a desert for a week. Once he's drained the last drop Kíli fetches him more from a pitcher on his bedside table.

"Go slowly with this one, okay? We have to make sure you can keep it down." 

Fíli nods, sipping at the lukewarm water despite his desire to down it all as quickly as possible. He stops only when he feels like his tongue isn't in danger of cracking from dryness, and before he knows it he's locked in a vice-like hold, Kíli burying his face into the crook of his shoulder as he latches onto Fíli like he'll disappear at any moment.

"You'd better not ever do anything that reckless again! Promise me that you'll never do anything like that again."

"Reckless?" Fíli rasps, wincing at the sound of his own voice. "Everyone knows you're the reckless one."

Kíli slowly pulls back, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Do you know what happened? What's the last thing you remember?"

He shuts his eyes again. He remembered dragon-fire, Sigrid, having to say goodbye in order to travel to Erebor, finding Thorin alive but changed, preparing for war and--

"I sent you away... I went off by myself... I..." He reaches up to where he knew he had been pierced through, wondering how he'd survived.

"Yes, that, you must never do that again." Kíli lightly knocks their foreheads together. "You've been sleeping for over three weeks. Óin-- Óin said that you'd be waking up properly any day now, but it was almost hard to believe after those first couple of times when you woke and were unresponsive."

"I'm sorry for making you worry," Fíli says, somehow managing to wrap his mobile arm, which is no longer tingling but feels foreignly heavy and rigid, around his brother.

"You'll be even more sorry when you find out who else was worrying about you, I have no doubt." Kíli murmurs, the tone of his voice relaxing, and Fíli has a moment to wonder at what he means before Kíli is excitedly pushing away.

"Speaking of, I need to tell Uncle, and Bilbo, and everyone, oh, I need to find someone who'll be willing to rush into Dale for me--"

Dale?

"--although I'm sure Tauriel would be willing. This is so exciting!" He leaps up from the bed and rushes to the door, only pausing to whirl back around and point at Fíli, looking remarkably like their mother when she's moments away from laying down the law. "I'll be right back, so don't fall asleep. Just. Don't."

And then he's gone, the door slamming behind him, and Fíli is left alone with his thoughts.

More than three weeks, Kíli had said, he'd been recovering from his wounds for that long. He glances back down at his arm, and then very carefully checks to see if he can move his legs. There's another splint that's keeping him from bending one of his knees, but he can flex his feet and wiggle his toes, and he could almost crumple back down in relief at the knowledge that he hasn't lost any sensation or mobility.

He can't remember the fall precisely, but he'd gone down a long way. He can't help but wonder if he, like Kíli, now owes his life to the famed healing prowess of the elves.

He clenches his eyes shut and tries to remember anything that may have occurred between the fall and now, overheard snippets of conversation or brief moments of consciousness while his wounds were being treated, but finds that he cannot recall anything. Taking stock of his various injuries, splints, and the constricted feeling around his sore chest, then maybe it was better for him to stay sleeping, and not weaving in and out of consciousness. Fíli regrets making people fret about him, though he realizes that he had no control over the situation.

But whom had Kíli been speaking of, when he jested that Fíli would feel even worse about worrying them than his own brother? Why not come right out and say their name?

He flexes the fingers of his mobile arm to make sure the tingling has stopped completely before reaching out for the cup of water.

"Dale," he murmurs to himself before bringing the cup to his lips. He'd be lying if he said that the mention of the city hadn't piqued his interest, and perhaps it is just wishful thinking that the person whom Kíli had been speaking of was--

The door creaks open and Thorin slowly steps inside, eyeing Fíli as though he's not entirely sure that what he's seeing is actually happening. Fíli sets down the cup and squares his shoulder as best as he can.

"Hello uncle."

"Fíli." Thorin takes one step closer, then another, and soon Fíli finds himself cocooned in his uncle's arms in a way that he thought he'd grown out of half a century ago. It's not as tight an embrace as the one Kíli subjected him to, but it somehow feels even more encompassing.

His shoulders relax, and Thorin pulls away.

"I am glad you are well." Thorin reaches out to lay one heavy hand upon Fíli's shoulder, his gaze dropping away from his nephew's eyes. "If you had not survived that fall--"

"But I did survive. Let us not focus on the what-could-have-beens."

Thorin's hand drops away, but his eyes lift back up to focus on Fíli. "We will have much to discuss soon, not only about Erebor, but my actions during the days before the battle."

"Uncle."

"But I'm afraid that those must be brought up some other time, because there are many others who wish to see you hale and whole again." Thorin cracks a small smile. "And I would not get in their way by taking up all of your time."

As if on cue the door to the room swings and crashes against the wall, and Dwalin strides through with a smirk. "That's one of the wisest things your uncle has said this past week. It's good to see you finally on the mend, lad."

And then, as if a dam has broken, members of the Company stream through the door even faster than Fíli can comprehend. He's not sure how long they're all there for, since it seems as though as soon as one companion has congratulated him on his recovery and asked how he feels they are replaced by another who excitedly repeats nearly the same questions, until Óin finally arrives and makes a loud fuss about everyone accosting his patient and tiring him out.

Fíli would protest that he doesn't feel tired, only somewhat weak, but he decides not to say anything about that quite yet. Though to be honest no one can truly expect him to just leap out of bed, in full strength, after weeks of utter stillness.

When Kíli returns to the room, grinning as though he's got a spectacular trick up his sleeve, he situates himself at Fíli's side and doesn't move even as the others start to trail out of the room after wishing him a speedy recovery.

“You can thank me later,” he says with a wink, and Fíli has about three seconds to ponder over what he could mean before it becomes all too apparent.

"Kíli!" A familiar voice calls from the hallway, and soon an easily recognizable figure rushes through the door. "Tauriel came and told me that--" Sigrid pauses, eyes wide as she stares. "Oh. You, you really are awake."

"Yes he is." Kíli says, slapping Fíli's shoulder good-naturedly. "Took him long enough, didn't it?" He practically leaps away from Fíli’s side, making room for Sigrid to come closer. She draws nearer, looking almost cautious about coming to stand beside him, and Fíli feels an odd pang in his chest at seeing her so unsure.

They lock eyes, and some of the tautness in Sigrid’s shoulders melts away. She smiles and closes the distance between them to take the seat beside him in a well-practiced motion.

Fíli is only just aware enough of Kíli’s presence to know that he leaves the room. Sigrid, on the other hand, is only able to fully relax once the door has shut behind him.

They sit in silence for a few moments, and she flexes her fingers periodically. Without even thinking about it Fíli’s own hand starts inching towards the edge of his bed, but he stops when she begins to speak.

"I was told that sometimes, even if a person can't seem to do anything else at all, they can still hear." Her eyes dart away briefly, as if she's gathering courage. "I spoke to you, when you were asleep. Did you hear me at all?"

"No." He wishes he could say otherwise, especially when Sigrid seems to wilt a little at the admission, but he has no recollection of anything that happened in between the fall and when he woke.

"Well then." Her eyes stay fixed firmly on her lap, but one of her hands, quite curiously, begins to trail along the top of his bed sheets until it is close enough that she can twine her fingers with his own. "I found out a great deal about myself when I started saying all my thoughts and feelings out loud." She raises her head, and there's a gleam in her eye and a curl to her lips that makes Fíli's heart just about stop. 

"Would you mind if I repeated them, now that I know you're listening?"

"I wouldn't mind." His fingers flex around hers. "I wouldn't mind at all."

Sigrid's smile widens. "Good." And just like that she leans in to press a quick kiss against his cheek. She's already back in her seat by the time Fíli realizes what happened, and it is only the weight of her hand against his own that keeps him from lifting his fingers to his cheek in surprise.

"Sorry," Sigrid blurts out, her eyes darting back down to her lap, "it's just, that's not the sort of thing you do to someone who's sleeping, so, since you're awake now, I thought it might be more appropriate." She glances up, a curious combination of daring and shy. "I could never do it again, if you like?"

"No." He shifts his grip slightly and then lifts her hand up, his thumb trailing over her knuckles. "I think that that may actually be the opposite of what I would like." 

He brushes his lips against the back of her hand and watches her expression bloom into something more lovely than any treasure he'd ever laid his eyes upon.


End file.
